


Dog Tired

by trillian_jdc



Series: All Good Dogs [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Animal Transformation, Cuddling & Snuggling, Dogs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flirting, M/M, Mycroft To The Rescue, Mycroft is Sweet, Mystrade Monday, Mystrade Monday Prompts, Romantic Friendship, greg needs a hug, in their own special way
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trillian_jdc/pseuds/trillian_jdc
Summary: Mycroft notices that Lestrade is exhausted, so he arranges for some time off for Greg. Life as a dog for a few days is much more relaxing. For both of them.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: All Good Dogs [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1823848
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Isn't he cute? Don’t you just want to cuddle him? Mycroft does too. Under the guise of taking care of him, which he desperately needs. Both of them do, really.

Mycroft was too polite to gasp audibly at Lestrade’s appearance at the crime scene, but it was a near thing. He’d never seen the man look so drawn, so exhausted. It teetered on the edge of rudeness to draw attention to the situation, but the police officer clearly needed some kind of help. 

He ventured a query. "Inspector, you appear to be suffering some kind of malaise. Is there something I can do to assist?"

It took a surprising amount of time for Greg to focus on the taller man and even longer to answer him. Mycroft worried to see his friend so disconnected. Greg tried a couple of times to start answering him, but he was too tired to be able to put into words what he needed. It seemed as though making that decision, any decision, was too much. 

Well. Mycroft's position was founded on making tricky decisions. He'd have to take care of this for him, and explain afterwards, when he had recovered sufficiently. He would recover, of course. Mycroft would require it. 

He steadily moved closer to Lestrade, slumping a bit to make himself as unthreatening as possible. Only for Greg would he relax his perfect posture and unbending discipline. After all, the man had seen him in nothing but fur. He gently reached out a hand and touched Greg's sleeve. "What do you still need to do here, Greg?"

Greg shivered as his eyes slowly came back into focus and he looked around at the scene before answering, "Looks like everyone's gotten started. Not much else to do tonight." 

Mycroft spoke carefully, making his words distinct and the phrases simple. "Can you leave now? I'll take you home." 

"Sure, sure. Think so," Greg replied. He signaled to another officer, who nodded in return, that he was off. He scrubbed his hand over his face, continuing on now that he'd gotten started. "Christ, I'm knackered. Need my bed." He slowly blinked. "Don’t know if I’ll be able to get out of my head. You ever get so tired you don’t remember how to sleep?" 

Mycroft ghosted a smile. "I have spent many nights staring at a ceiling myself. Please allow me to help. You need several days off, and I have a method that will take you away from yourself and allow you to recover. May I arrange things for you?" 

Greg swallowed before he dared to respond. "Been a while since anyone wanted to take care of me." Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. "Please. 'm just so tired." 

Mycroft snuck an arm around his waist, fearful he might crumple, and guided him to the car. "Sit here, I'll be just a moment."

* * *

Greg hadn't realized until he sat down how at risk he was of losing consciousness. His cases lately had taken so much out of him. The bad news never stopped, and he was so tired of having to be the bearer of it to families and loved ones. 

If Mycroft hadn't shown up tonight, he didn't like to think about how long it might have been before he got any help. He needed someone else's perspective to realize he needed to take himself off duty for a while. 

Mycroft had turned away to place a call on his mobile. Greg heard bits and pieces float by. 

"Sherlock? I need your assistance with Lestrade," Mycroft said. After a pause, he continued, "Yes, tonight. Whatever you want, if you will do this." 

Greg closed his eyes, convinced he must already be dreaming to have heard Mycroft promise his brother anything he wanted, no strings.

* * *

Mycroft slid into the car quietly in order not to disturb Greg. He wasn't sleeping yet, as he opened his eyes as the door closed. 

Greg tried a smile. "All under control?"

Mycroft reassured him. "Plans are set. You'll be staying with me for a few days, if you will trust me." His forehead wrinkled. "You may find this a bit unorthodox, but I have only your best interests at heart." 

Greg's hand swayed through the space between them until it managed to land on Mycroft's leg. "Course I trust you. You can take care of Britain, what's a worn-out copper?" 

"You are far from worn out, Greg. None of this is your fault. You're in need of a reset. A little time away. Nothing to worry about." Mycroft made his voice even more slow and soothing, to continue relaxing the overworked police officer. He was relieved that Greg hadn't put up a fuss. He would have taken Greg away no matter what, but it was so much easier when the subject acquiesced.

* * *

Greg wasn't alert enough to take notice of the details of Mycroft's home. He'd seen it before, but right now, his limited energy was focused on keeping him upright. 

Mycroft had taken him to a large bathroom where he had laid out some flannel pajama bottoms and a surprisingly soft t-shirt. He drew Greg a bath and left him to manage, returning with a cup of tea once Greg was settled in the tub. 

Greg's head rolled back, resting on the rounded edge, as his eyes closed. "A cuppa's always good for any problem. Thanks, Mycroft. You'd better stay close, as I'm the one who's on duty for a call if I fall asleep and drown." He wanted to make sure Mycroft knew he was comfortable with him nearby, no matter the situation. 

Mycroft smiled fondly at him. "You know that makes no sense. And more to the point, you've been placed on leave as of..." He checked his pocket watch. "42 minutes ago." 

"Oh, good, then I can nap." Greg snuck looks at him when he could. How anyone could manage to look that elegant perched on a closed toilet seat was beyond him. Perhaps it was the waistcoat. The suit jacket had gone and the sleeves were rolled, though. Greg smiled to himself at the sight of the freckles on his forearms. It was already making him feeling more comfortable that Mycroft was unwinding a bit as well, and in his presence. 

"Not in the tub, please. There's still one more component of your relaxation plan due, and you need to be awake for it." As he answered, Mycroft was resolutely keeping his eyes above the level of the bathtub edge. Greg appreciated it. There was something between them, but it was still new, and friendship was a safer refuge right now. 

"Don't relax too much. Sherlock is due any minute," Mycroft warned Greg. 

Greg barked out what was entirely unlike a laugh. "You asked him over to help relax me?"

"You may, of course, refuse, but it occurred to me that a particular transformation would, as they say, change your headspace."

"What a ridiculous..." Greg caught himself. His thoughts were terribly slow right now, but they generally got there. "Hang on, that’s not a terrible idea."

Mycroft tilted his head and looked at Greg from under his eyebrows. "I am well compensated for, as you have it, my 'not terrible' ideas and orthogonal thinking." Greg laughed. 

Just then, the doorbell rang. Mycroft stood up briskly. "Grand, he's not breaking in tonight." He took a towel from a stack in the cupboard and set it in his place, then picked up Greg's empty cup. "I'll leave you to dress. We'll be downstairs."

* * *

Mycroft heard Greg carefully making his way down the stairs. As he appeared in the doorway, Mycroft stood up to usher him into the room where he and Sherlock had been sitting in silence. Greg had recovered some healthier coloring, but he was still worn out, and Mycroft didn't want a collapse. 

Greg waved him back. "'m not an invalid, Mycroft, just a bit tired." 

"You're looking better, at least. I was greatly concerned for you, Greg. You don't realize how frightening your behavior was." Mycroft's furrowed brow spoke for him as well. 

Greg met his eyes. "Might have a hint, since you called out the rear guard," as he gestured towards Sherlock. 

"Hmmmph," came from said reserve, balled up in the corner of the sofa. "Do you know what he's planning, Graham?" 

"Have an idea, yeah. 'm ok with it." 

"Very well. John said I could, so I'm here." Sherlock continued. "He required me to tell you he wants to help if you need anything and hopes you feel better." 

The heads of both men slowly turned to look at the younger man, hunched up with his feet on the couch. "What?" Sherlock spat out. "I promised him no more magic, so I needed his approval for an exception." 

"That's... great, Sherlock. Good of you to keep John happy," Greg managed, as he and Mycroft looked at each other, shocked by how much Sherlock had revealed. 

"Right." Sherlock leapt off the couch and gestured for Greg to stand in the center of the room. "When will you be done?" 

Mycroft stepped in to answer for him. "This is an open-ended effort. Assuming you have no more pressing commitments, I will ring you when he's ready." 

"Yeah, I clearly wasn't doing that great a job myself, so Mycroft's the judge of when I'm fixed." Greg ducked his head, running a hand through his hair. 

"Quite right. But you are not broken, Greg." Mycroft pinned a look on his friend, as if he'd been naughty. "You simply weren't taking proper care of yourself." 

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'm so glad you have each other, now can I get back to my evening? It's my turn to read to Rosie before bed." 

Mycroft and Greg both looked away. If they'd caught each other's eyes, they would end up laughing, and that would make Sherlock even more annoyed. 

Greg straightened up, once he'd again got control of himself, and told him, "Go ahead." He stood where Sherlock had indicated, closed his eyes, and waited. A sprinkle of potion, a few muttered words, and suddenly, he was closer to the floor and again had paws. He was a dog, for the third time in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week’s Mystrade Monday prompt was “I’ll walk you home.” (I used “I’ll take you home.”) Last week’s was “None of this is your fault,” which I also used.


	2. Chapter 2

"Thank you, Sherlock. We are both in your debt." Greg heard Mycroft showing his brother out with gratitude. He was more interested in the squashy couch. The warmth of Sherlock's body was still present where he'd been sitting, so Greg hopped up and curled into the corner of the furniture. 

Mycroft walked back into the room, smiling at him. He sat next to the shaggy, gray-haired animal. "Isn't that better? No worries for a few days, just pats and walks and meals." Greg nudged Mycroft's leg with his head, ready for the petting to start immediately. He already felt lighter and happier, with no concerns but his basic needs and spending time with Mycroft. 

Mycroft complied with Greg's demand as he continued talking, running his hand over Greg's head and ears and through his fur. Greg's eyes closed as he listened to Mycroft's plans for tomorrow and felt the warmth of his leg next to his side. "I've ordered additional groceries, heavy on protein, although I hope you'll help me decide on some meals we can share. We'll take a nice long walk mid-morning, and I'll be working from home until the weekend, when we'll go out to the country together. Your form for that is your choice, depending on how quickly you recover. Tonight, as it's already late, we'll turn in shortly." 

Greg squirmed around until he'd rolled over, showing his belly and wriggling in happiness. Mycroft tickled him, encouraging his antics, until he stood and said, "All right. You can have as much as you want of that tomorrow. Time to retire." He started to brush the dog hair off his trousers, then waved his hands through the air in defeat, quickly giving it up as a lost cause. "My dry cleaner will be thrilled with the additional business you're going to generate, you scamp." Mycroft smiled down at him as he gestured to the carpet. He wouldn't order Greg off the furniture, but Greg followed his lead and hopped off the sofa. 

Greg stayed in step with Mycroft as they walked around the ground floor, turning off lights, checking doors, and generally closing up for the evening before going upstairs to Mycroft's bedroom.

* * *

Mycroft entered his large, walk-in closet to change into his pajamas. Greg trotted behind him and lay down in the doorway, watching him. They'd done this before, but this time, Mycroft knew Greg wasn't just an animal. 

Mycroft glanced down at the dog. "Looking for a show, are you?" Greg nodded and licked his lips. Pursing his mouth, Mycroft pushed away his uncertainty and replied, "Well, fair enough, as I did impose myself on your bath, even if it was for safety's sake." He felt vaguely ridiculous. Not many people had had the experience of interacting with a friend, possibly with hints of more, who was currently in canine form. They had been comfortably close when they were both non-human, which was reassuring, and Mycroft had his own experience of how bigger, human worries and anxiety faded away when in that shape. 

Perhaps he was too much in his head, as always, although his fingers had been moving on auto-pilot, removing and putting away his waistcoat and shirt. He kept sneaking glances at Greg. The dog seemed happy, and his uncomplicated presence was surprisingly reassuring. Perhaps he should be flattered that Greg trusted him to this extent, and wanted to relax with him, and liked spending time with him, and wanted to see him. 

Then it came time to remove his trousers. It had been a long time since he'd been this unclothed in anyone's company, purposefully, and not for medical or security reasons. Well, once more into the breach. 

Mycroft kept his back to the door, and the dog, as he unbelted and unzipped his trousers. Suddenly, the ridiculousness of the entire situation struck him, and he mentally gave over, putting a bit of a hip wiggle into his disrobing as he bared his legs and dropped his trousers to the floor. That got him a woof and a bit of panting. He looked back over his shoulder and couldn't help smiling. "I'm glad you enjoyed it, Gregory, as that's the finale." Mycroft stepped out of the clothes pooled on the floor and into his pajama bottoms, which he pulled up over his boxers. 

The pajama shirt had been dislodged when he picked up the other piece, and the sleeve trailed from the top of the dresser where his night clothes had been placed. Before Mycroft could reach for it, Gregory darted forward, took it in his mouth, and pulled it down to the floor before dragging it out of the room. Mycroft watched as he wriggled under the bed, taking his fabric prize with him. 

He stood, bare-chested, hands on hips, in the doorway. "Gregory! Bring that back!" 

The dog clambered back out but left the pajama top under the middle of the bed, unreachable without undignified wiggling and stretching from a human. He sat, cocked his head to the side, and grinned at Mycroft. 

"Demanding beast, aren't you? You do realize I have more than one pair of pajamas?" 

Greg lay down, head on front paws, and did his best to look sad. 

"Don't pout. I suppose you want me to feel flattered, but the whole reason for this exercise is that your mental acuity is in question right now." 

Greg popped up and dashed towards Mycroft, bowling him over. He landed on his rear on the floor with a lapful of happy, fluffy dog licking his face. So much for his dignity, but the tactile sensations of fur on skin were surprisingly enjoyable. 

Mycroft hugged the adorable mutt and buried his face in his fur. "Oh, Gregory, you're incorrigible. Perhaps this will be a vacation we both need," he murmured into his pelt. Then he pulled his head back, holding Greg's face between his hands. "If I'll do as you wish, will you put that in the laundry basket so I don't have to make explanations to the housekeeper? And could we get off the floor? There's a perfectly comfortable bed right over there. You used it to hide your prize." 

Greg backed up, letting Mycroft stand up. He petted his head. "Go on, get settled. I'll be with you in a minute."

* * *

When Mycroft came out of the bathroom, Greg was in the center of the bed. He had rucked the duvet around himself and cozied up in a nest. 

"I am pleased you are making yourself at home, Gregory, but where, pray tell, should I sleep?" 

Greg cracked an eye open and stretched out a paw, patting the bed beside him. 

"How magnanimous of you." 

Greg stretched and stood up on the bed. He deliberately took the edge of the bed covers in his mouth and slowly backed up, drawing the sheets back as though preparing the bed in turn-down service. 

"Good to know you have a potential second career as a housemaid, my dear." Mycroft had come close to ruffle the fur behind Greg's ears. Greg sat back on his haunches and butted his head into Mycroft's hand. After a few more scratches, Mycroft lay down and tucked himself into bed, pulling the covers up. Once settled, Greg snuggled up to his side, resting his head on Mycroft's chest as Mycroft's hand settled on his back. The two quickly dropped off to sleep.


End file.
